---

Animal Kingdom

I wonder if they watch the world with eyes that gleam like polished knives,
their irises splitting shadows and silence into truths only they can bear.
I wonder if the animal kingdom worships bloodshed as much as we do—
if they kneel to the splatter of crimson on dry leaves,
painting their hymns into the bark of trees.

Does the mother wolf devour her runt, not out of hunger,
but because it dares to be weaker than her teeth?
Is that how they liberate salvation—
by feeding their offspring to the altar of endurance?
I wonder if they worship the lion even as he devours his cubs.
Do they call it justice, or do they call it survival,
as if those words are not two sides of the same jagged coin?
Does the zebra exalt the tiger’s claws because they are sharp, inevitable, and worthy?
Do the vultures whisper psalms of praise to Carrion,
their wings flapping hymns of decay, their voices a chorus of unholy ecstasy?

And I wonder if they turn their faces away when the slaughter starts.
I wonder if they dream of a god with no teeth that doesn’t chew them apart to swallow them whole.
Or do they dream of no gods at all?
Only the endless gnashing of jaws in the dark,
the slick warmth of blood pooling under their bellies,
a kingdom of red where no one forgets their place.
Perhaps we learned it all from them.
Or perhaps they learned it from us.

---

---